Project Cheer Up
by RobinLady-in-Waiting
Summary: Inspector Thatcher is lonely and Fraser decides to do something about it.


_**Laughter is not a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is the best ending for one.**_

_**~Oscar Wilde **_

_**The Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Illinois ….**_

Fraser knocked on Inspector Thatcher's door a few moments after she arrived.

"Come in, Constable." She called from behind her desk. He could hear the sound of her reading glasses hitting the metal bottom of her top drawer as she quickly hid them.

"Here's your coffee, Sir, and this morning's _Chicago Sun-Times_." The Mountie laid the newspaper on the corner of her desk and set the coffee cup in it's usual place to her left.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg barely looked up from the file she held, squinting at it.

"You're welcome, Sir." Fraser took noted how exquisite she looked in the ivory silk blouse she wore with her hounds tooth jacket. She hadn't worn it before so it must be a new purchase.

Before Fraser could make it out of her office door, Inspector Thatcher called for him.

"Oh, Fraser, there's a repair man coming to fix the grandfather clock later today, please let him in and show him the clock." She peered up from her file at him, her expression unreadable.

"Yes, Sir, I shall." Constable Benton Fraser nodded and again continued on his way. As he closed the door behind him he heard the Inspector sigh heavily and the sound of her drawer opening.

"I wish someone could repair me." She muttered to herself, or so she thought. Fraser's unearthly keen ears heard every word distinctly. He was struck by how sorrowful she sounded, how lonely.

_"I wonder what she means?"_ He thought to himself as he stepped stealthily down the hall to his home/office.

"She means for someone to keep her company, son." Robert Fraser popped up behind his son, startling him.

"Dad, for Pete's sake." Ben whispered, hoping the Inspector wouldn't hear.

"What! The only people she sees is you and that bumbler, Turntable." Fraser Sr. gestured toward the junior Mountie's desk in the foyer.

"Inspector Thatcher sees others, she saw the deputy mayor yesterday afternoon." Fraser recalled. He received an eye roll in response.

"If you don't keep her company, someone else will." Robert Fraser's voice trailed off. He'd disappeared before Ben could turn around at his office door.

Diefenbaker lay on his bed in the corner of the room, dozing. The old wolf looked up at his human companion and then laid his head down again. Fraser had that funny look on his face that meant the alpha female was on his mind. Dief didn't see the attraction between them, but then he was half wolf and didn't discriminate with whom he _liaised_. He had an itch and found a willing scratcher, it was that simple. His human might as well have had fleas, he itched so much. It gave the old wolf a headache trying to figure it out so he quit and went back to dozing.

The next day Fraser again knocked on the Inspector's door a few minutes after she arrived. The phone had already rung and she was searching her computer for a payroll file someone in Ottawa had lost and now needed a copy of.

"I have it right here, yes, hold on, let me send it to you as an email attachment." She didn't sound happy. Incompetence was completely intolerable, especially at seven-thirty in the morning.

"Come in, Constable." Meg called a moment before dropping her glasses in her lap to hide them.

"Good morning, Sir, here's your coffee, newspaper and blueberry muffin." Fraser greeted her with a smile, thinking that perhaps she simply needed a little encouragement.

"Thank you, Fraser." She used her free hand to wave him out of the office. Fraser nodded and turned to go. Inspector Thatcher didn't look any happier this morning than she had the previous morning.

_"I'll get to the bottom of this."_ Fraser thought to himself.

As the day progressed Fraser gave the problem more thought. He tired to think of the reasons for the Inspector's melancholy. He hadn't noticed a change in her routine. She worked the same hours as always, seven to five every day. There were dinner parties, luncheons, meetings and various other duties she performed on a regular basis. They all had a full plate around the consulate. Sometimes it was necessary to work on the weekends, preparing for visiting dignitaries and such. That entailed phone calls, appointments, overseeing temporary staff; among a thousand other details. Some of it the Inspector delegated to Fraser and junior Mountie, Constable Turnbull, but she was a hands on kind of boss. Nothing was done right if she didn't do it herself. The Inspector had her petty side, yes, but she didn't shirk her duties.

"She's a very social person, perhaps her work here at the consulate is keeping her away from her friends and family?" Fraser didn't know what he could do to help out in that department. He knew several people but he doubted that Inspector Thatcher would have much in common with any of them.

"Yes, she is special, not that you'd ever tell her." Robert Fraser's voice interrupted Ben's thoughts.

"Dad, it's complicated." Ben turned from his typewriter to see his father wearing a fur parka and snow shoes.

"Then uncomplicate it, son." The older Fraser pushed back, his light eyes steadily boring into Benton's bluer ones.

"I don't believe the Inspector wants me to uncomplicate it, Dad." Ben argued back halfheartedly.

"You'll never know until you try."

"Oh bother! Grrr, I hate it when that happens." Inspector Thatcher's voice carried through out the first floor of the consulate. Fraser stood up from writing his daily report to investigate the problem.

"Fraser, will you bring me a box of ink pens from the supply closet, please?" She popped her head out the door and saw him doing the same.

"Yes, Sir." The Mountie walked the four steps from his office door to the supply closet beneath the stairs and found what she wanted, a ten count box of blue, Bic, round stick, grip, medium point ink pens. He walked them down the hallway, his high browns quiet even on the creaking, hardwood underfoot.

"Here you are, Sir, is there anything else you need, anything at all?" The Mountie peered down at his superior officer's face. He noticed how dull her usually vibrant, brown eyes seemed.

"No, Constable, I have everything I need, thank you." She opened the box and pulled a new pen out. With a sigh, she went back to itemizing an expense report. She was a Mountie for Pete's sake, not an accountant.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser turned on his heel and walked away.

"I need a bubble bath and a hot date, that's what I really need." Meg muttered when she thought Fraser had walked out of earshot.

_"She is lonely."_ Fraser walked over to the front door and peered out, the tip of his tongue toying with his slightly imperfect eye tooth. He still didn't begin to know how to help her. He hadn't managed to forget their kiss on top of that runaway train. That had been months ago and it still haunted him.

_"She's made it abundantly clear that it was a once in a lifetime occurrence."_ Ben shook his head. Dief's nails clicking on the hardwood flooring announced his presence. The old wolf sat down beside his human companion and peered out the very bottom of the window. He looked out then up at Fraser.

"I know, old friend, but I can't erase the past or fashion the future." Fraser looked down at his lupine companion. The white fur ball had seen him through some of the darkest days of his life. They were loyal to each other.

"Do something about it or move on." Dief seemed to say.

"You're right, but it isn't that simple." Ben knew the keening edge of loneliness far too well. His soul, once laid bare, had been damaged. He didn't know if he could handle that pain again. Ben didn't want to do to someone else what had been so carelessly done to him by Victoria. He didn't have it in him to be that cruel to another human being.

"I suppose I shall have to wait and see what happens. Perhaps it's just a lull?" Even the deaf wolf could hear the sound of a bad lie, and there's no worse liar than someone who's lying to themselves. Dief groaned up at Ben and stood up to leave.

Ray (Kowalski) Vecchio bit off the ears of an Easter bunny chocolate then took a swig of his coffee. How he stayed so wiry, no one knew. The blond detective was a live wire at all times, except on the dance floor.

"Hey, Frase, what's up?" He greeted his Canadian, unofficial, (official for his cover) partner.

"Good morning, Ray, you're certainly in a chipper mood this morning." Fraser toyed with his Stetson as he sat in the chair across the desk from Ray.

"Ah, had a good night's sleep. What's on yer mind this early?" Ray began shuffling through his IN-box with one hand, sipping his coffee with the other.

"Ray, I have a question." Fraser sat up straight, thinking of how best to pose his question without mentioning the Inspector.

"Lay it on me, buddy." Ray slapped a file down on his desk blotter and fired up his computer.

"What would you do if you knew someone was lonely but you couldn't directly help them?" That sounded vague enough.

"What, Turnbull cryin and boohooing about not being able to get a date?" Ray snickered.

"No, Constable Turnbull seems to be quite happy since he began attending cooking classes at the community college in January. I'm talking about someone else." Fraser watched Ray intently, wondering what solution he would suggest.

"I don't know, Fraser, maybe get 'em a present, leave it sneaky like er somethin'." Ray shrugged. He'd never set out to make someone less lonely.

"A 'Secret Admirer', Ray?" Ben's blue eyes blazed. That would make Inspector Thatcher feel special indeed.

"Yeah, one of those." Ray leaned back in his chair and finished off his coffee.

"Thank you kindly, Ray, that was an excellent suggestion." Fraser set his Stetson on his head and prepared to leave. He tipped his hat toward Francesca and excused himself through the throng of the Twenty-seventh's bullpen.

Frannie Vecchio, the real Ray Vecchio's younger sister and Fraser's number one fan, turned on her three inch heels, wondering what had the hot, Canadian so worked up. She sure knew how she'd like to get him worked up.

"What's his deal, Fraser always says good morning." Frannie leaned on Ray's desk, tapping her freshly manicured nails on the metal surface.

"I dunno, somethin about someone bein lonely, who knows, it's Fraser." Ray shrugged, eating the Easter bunny's head.

On his way back to the consulate, Ben passed by several shops. He tried to decide what an appropriate gift would be for the Inspector. What would make her smile? He hadn't seen her smile since, well, he couldn't really remember the last time.

Passing by a bookstore, he saw a display of crystal figurines in the window. Several were music boxes. Fraser thought of their delicate beauty and how they matched the Inspector's grace and style.

"Perfect." The Mountie went inside. Several, female patrons watched him as he examined the quality of the figurines. There were a wide variety of animals, hot air balloons, stars, moons and hearts. A music box caught Fraser's attention. The crystal dancer wore a red, silk costume complete with slippers. Turning the handle, it began playing a classical waltz.

"She'll love this." Taking the music box to the counter, Fraser gladly paid thirty dollars for it. The young, flirty salesclerk gift wrapped it for free.

"Thank you kindly." Fraser tipped his Stetson to the comely red head. A few doors down he found a delivery service. They agreed to deliver the carefully wrapped package to the consulate the next morning. Operation Nice Guy was underway.

Fraser stood sentry duty beginning at eight o'clock sharp. He saw the delivery man pass by his station and resisted the urge to smile. He would like to have been inside when Inspector Thatcher opened the package but it was his turn for sentry duty.

_"Thankfully, Turnbull begins sentry duty at noon."_ Fraser thought to himself.

Four hours later the misplaced Mountie traded places with the junior officer and took the front steps two at a time. Diefenbaker greeted him in the foyer with a happy smile.

"Hello." Fraser rubbed his furry friend's head and took off toward the kitchen.

"Constable Fraser, may I speak to you?" Inspector Thatcher's voice called him from his destination. Back tracking, he stepped into her office. The first thing Fraser noticed was the way her eyes shone. He hadn't seen that in a while.

"Hello, Inspector Thatcher." He greeted her, Stetson in hand.

"Fraser, were you aware that a delivery was made this morning?" Meg began, ignoring Fraser's greeting.

"Yes, Sir, I saw the deliveryman arrive." Fraser answered truthfully.

"An anonymous admirer sent me this." Meg motioned toward the music box sitting on her desk.

"It's lovely." Fraser looked at the tiny dancer again. He'd chosen well from Meg's reaction. If only she didn't pointedly ask him where it come from.

"It's beautiful, I just wonder who sent it to me." Meg studied her subordinate officer carefully. He had a guarded look in his eyes, pensive almost.

"I would love to know who to thank for this present. It's certainly thoughtful." Meg turned the handle to make the music play.

"I'm certain the gift giver knows your thanks." Fraser added.

"If you learn who this admirer is you'll tell me won't you, Constable Fraser?" Inspector Thatcher met his gaze steadily.

"Most certainly, Sir." He nodded.

"Thank you, Constable." Meg nodded, a smile toying with the corners of her wine colored lips.

"If I were a betting man I'd wager she knows you bought that thing for her." Fraser Sr. said as soon as Ben closed the door to the Inspector's office.

"Maybe so, Dad, but it's the best I can do for the time being." Ben walked into his office with his hands clasped behind his back, a satisfied smile on his face.

_**The Twenty-seventh Precinct ...**_

Ray dragged a teenager in by his collar, the teen grumbling ever breath. Diefenbaker trotted behind as did Fraser and Francesca. The teen and Frannie both wore scowls.

"Listen ya little punk, I've read ya your rights, one of which is the right to remain silent, that anything you say CAN and WILL be used against you, so close it. You were caught red handed, deal with it." The blond detective was irate, and Frannie wasn't even his blood sister.

"Just be glad he was there or I'd a knocked your teeth out, pal." Frannie wagged a long, manicured finger toward the wayward youth. Her miniskirt had transmission fluid and grit on it and her new purse had a broken strap where it had been pulled out of her grip.

"Francesca, he didn't get away with your purse, things could have been much worse." Fraser tried to calm the seething Italian.

"Fraser, it was a NEW purse, I paid seventy dollars for it on sale at the mall !" Frannie gestured wildly as she shook the purse under the Mountie's nose.

"Yes, I understand, Francesca, I'm simply suggesting that you look at the situation from a different perspective." Fraser tried again.

"Men, none of the straight ones know a single thing about purses, or shoes, or anything but how to hunt and drink beer." Frannie lamented whether anyone was listening or not.

"Frannie cool it, go fill out a report on the purse snatchin'." Ray pointed toward her desk.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She stalked off, her heels hitting the tile floor hard as she sashayed off.

After booking the thief, Ray had paperwork to attend to. A case, even a small one, always had more t's to cross and i's to dot when the Mountie was involved.

"Hey, Benny, did you figure out how to help that person you were talkin about the other day?" Ray asked, taking a minute away from paperwork and his reading glasses.

"Yes, Ray, I heeded your advice actually." Ben answered as she perused Ray's files, refiling those out of place.

"Ah, so you went with the secret admirer thing then?" Ray grinned. He had a pretty good idea whom the Mountie admired.

"It's rather a cheering up project, Ray." Fraser corrected, not that it did any good.

"Yeah, whatever." The detective shrugged. He hated paperwork.

"So far, the project has been successful. Inspector Thatcher displays the music box on her desk." Fraser went on, working his Stetson in a circle between his hands.

"A music box, Ma loves those things, she must have about a dozen of 'em." Ray looked up from the file he held, a wistful smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"They do make wonderful gifts, I'll give you the name of the shop where I purchased the one for the Inspector." Fraser found an ink pen and a Post-It pad.

"Yeah, Ma's birthday is comin up soon, I'd better get her somethin' nice." Ray tucked the Post-It in his wallet for later.

"I'm sure she'll love whatever you chose, Ray." Fraser envied his friend and his relationship with his parents.

"Yeah, Ma's a good egg like that." Ray smiled, making a mental plan to drop by his parents' house after work.

"What are you gonna give the Inspector next?" Ray asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not certain yet. I'll have to consider it carefully first." Fraser frowned momentarily.

"Maybe you could ask Frannie about that sort of thing, she's a chick." Ray suggested. Seeing the wide eyed alarm on his friend's face was priceless.

"I don't think that would be a wise idea, it may present the wrong idea." Fraser rushed, shaking his head.

Ray just grinned. "Yeah, I see your point."

"Hey, Vecchio, your perp is screaming bloody murder in the interrogation room." One of the uniform officers called across the bull pen.

"Yeah, thanks, O' Reilly." Ray shook his head.

"Come on, Benny, let's go see what's going on." The detective took the lead.

Diefenbaker trotted happily along the sidewalk, stopping occasionally to sniff a tree or garbage can. He'd just been given the royal treatment by a group of fourth graders at the local elementary school. They'd secreted him treats and petted on him. Fraser walked at his usual, brisk pace, noting the clouds overhead and the likelihood of rain.

A tall, strawberry blonde, too wrapped up in her book, ran smack into the red serge clad figure. She bounced off of him and onto her butt, her reading glasses flying off. A bag of books from a bookstore up the street lay in a pile on the cement.

"Pardon me, ma'am, are you alright?" Fraser offered the lady a hand up. Her light blue eyes looked up at him in surprise. She blinked a few times before laying one delicate hand in his.

"I'm fine, thank you. I really must stop reading and walking." As soon as she was on her feet, she turned around and began searching for her glasses.

"Here, allow me." Fraser found her glasses easily. He pulled out a fresh handkerchief and cleaned them before handing them back.

"You're so kind, just like the hero of my favorite novel." The woman gushed, adjusting her ruffled, lace blouse and loosely draped skirt. Diefenbaker pushed one of the paperback books to her feet with his nose, hoping for a gratuity.

"Oh, aren't you just a beauty." The lady knelt down and began fawning over Dief.

"Here are your books, ma'am." Fraser had gathered the scattered books and the cloth bag they'd been in.

"Oh, thank you so much, ah?" The young woman gave him a coquettish eyelash batting, turning her head to one side.

"Constable Benton Fraser." He tipped his Stetson before handing her the cloth bag.

"Alison Menifee, it's a pleasure to meet you." She gushed, her voice soft.

Fraser replaced the books into the cloth bag she held open. His eyes fell on the bright cover or one. Quickly, he pulled the book back out and examined the title more closely.

"If I may, where did you purchase this volume, ma'am?" The Mountie looked at her with interest.

"Just there, at Kelly's Bookstore." Alison pointed behind her.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Menifee." Fraser handed her the book. "Come Dief." He left Alison bewildered.

A few strides later the Mountie stepped into a small shop lined with wooden shelves laden with all manner of books. Dust motes fell silently, lazily, to the floor.

"Hello, let me know if you need any help." A man old enough to be Fraser's father greeted him when he heard the bell over the door sound.

"Thank you, I'm looking for a specific book, a young lady just purchased a volume of Renaissance paintings here a few minutes ago." Fraser stepped up to the counter, which had shelves built along the front, displaying magazines.

"I remember. Alison bought the last one I had in stock, I've ordered a couple more, they should be in the first of next week." The gentleman answered, sitting on a bar stool behind the counter. His eyes were magnified behind owlish glasses. With his balding head, dark hair, black suit and bow tie, he looked like an undertaker more than a bookstore owner. His nearly colorless face sagged around the jowls, making him seem unhappy.

"I'd like to purchase one of the volumes as soon as they arrive, you can reach me here." Fraser pulled out one of the consulate's business cards and wrote his office extension on the back.

"It's a surprise for a co-worker, so discretion would much appreciated." He wrote his name on the card as well.

"Alright, I'll call as soon as the shipment arrives." Mr. Kelly slipped the card into his breast pocket and gave a tight smile.

"Thank you kindly." Fraser nodded before leaving. Dief picked up beside him as soon as his human came out of the store.

"I believe the Inspector will enjoy the book, don't you, Dief?" Fraser smiled to himself. The wolf gave him an eye roll.

"You do realize I'm colorblind and it's a book on art?" Dief seemed to say with one cocked brow.

"Ah yes, I suppose art is difficult for you to appreciate." Fraser shrugged as he went along his way.

Turnbull answered the phone Monday after lunch with his usual cheerfulness. The junior Mountie listened intently, as if it were the Queen herself on the line.

"I'm sorry, Constable Fraser is out at the moment. May I take a message?" Turnbull asked politely.

"Yes, please tell him that his order has arrived." The older, male voice spoke clearly.

"Is there a name and number where he can reach you, Sir?" Turnbull, ever thorough Turnbull.

"He'll know." The caller hung up.

"Hm, that's odd." Turnbull wrote down the number listed on the caller ID on his handy dandy call log.

"Who was that, Constable Turnbull?" Inspector Thatcher asked as she passed by his desk in the foyer. She had unbuttoned her dress blazer to reveal a navy blouse and pearls beneath the flattering, maroon garment.

"They didn't give a name, Sir, they simply asked for Constable Fraser." Turnbull answered truthfully.

_"Hm, interesting."_ Meg thought to herself.

Thatcher picked up the call log and gazed at the number. It seemed familiar. She wrote the number down on a Post-It note and sauntered into her office. She laid her purse on the filing cabinet behind her desk and sat down. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed the mystery number.

"Kelly's Bookstore, how may I help you?" A male voice asked with a tired tone.

"Yes, I was wondering what your weekend hours are?" Meg lied, wondering why a bookstore would call Fraser. It wasn't out of character, she knew him to be a well read man. Still, there was something mysterious about it.

"We're open Friday eight to six, Saturday ten to six and Sunday noon to six." The voice answered promptly.

"Thank you, you've been very helpful." Meg hung up a moment later. Her curiosity was killing her, first the music box now a mysterious phone call for Fraser. It felt like something out of a mystery novel.

_"I'll get to the bottom of this." _Meg promised herself. She tucked her cell phone and the number into her purse when she heard the front door open and the sound of male voices in the foyer. A moment later she heard Fraser walk to his office, Dief's nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

Tuesday after lunch a deliveryman brought a slim, manilla envelope into the foyer.

"Uh, I have a delivery for Inspector Thatcher." The young man said carelessly.

"I'll sign for it." Turnbull offered.

"Sorry, I have to have the signature of the guy it's addressed to, I'll get in trouble if I get someone else's name on here." The young man shook his head.

"Just a moment please." Turnbull knocked on the Inspector's door.

"Yes, Constable." Meg called, taking her glasses off.

"There's a delivery here for you, they won't accept anyone's signature by yours." Turnbull informed her, bracing for a tongue lashing. Instead he received a peeved glare as she stood up to meet the deliveryman.

"Inspector Thatcher here." She greeted the young man briskly.

"Hmm, thought sure it was a guy. Sign here, please." He shoved a clip board toward her and a grubby ink pen.

Meg picked up an ink pen from Turnbull's desk and signed the ledger.

"Thank you." She hissed, taking the manilla envelope and turned on her heel, leaving Turnbull to deal with the deliveryman.

"Hey, this stuff ain't the right color." She heard the young man say before closing her office door. Quickly, Meg took out her letter opener and sliced the flap. Turning the envelope upside down, a book fell out. _The Birth of Venus_ greeted her from the cover. Her eyes lit up; she loved classical painting. Flipping through the book transported her back to her time spent in Paris as a youth.

A note card fell from the center of the book.

_Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart._ ~ Schiller - _Don Carlos_

Meg read the unsigned card twice before folding it and putting it back in the book.

_"It has to be Fraser, that's so close to what was said on the train."_ Meg thought, holding the book to her chest, smiling. _"He's my secret admirer."_ A giddy laugh almost escaped her throat.

With a deep breath, she regained her calm.

_"I need to let him know that I appreciate the gift somehow."_ She didn't know how though without letting him know she knew.

_"He mustn't know I know."_ It was quite a predicament. A knock on the office door brought her out of her thoughts.

"Come in." Inspector Thatcher called, loosening her hold on the book.

Fraser stepped thought the office door.

"Inspector Thatcher, I need your signature on this press release for the Swiss Ambassador's arrival." He handed her a neatly typed sheet of paper.

She took the paper and found an ink pen lying on her desk. Quickly, Thatcher scanned the contents before signing. It was eloquent yet precise, just like the author.

Fraser took the sheet and waited for a dismissal. He saw the bright twinkle in his commanding officer's brown eyes as she hesitated.

"Constable Fraser," She paused, biting on her bottom lip, "do you recognize this quote?" Meg pulled the note card out of the book and handed it to him. His light eyes read quickly before handing it back.

"Yes, I believe I've read it somewhere, years ago." Ben answered truthfully.

"Is it a popular passage?" Meg asked, re-reading it a third time.

"I'm not certain, Sir." Ben studied her. She leaned on the corner of her desk, her hands firmly holding the book he'd ordered the week before. Her thumb stroked the cover appreciatively.

"Oh, well, I was just wondering. My secret admirer seems to be a well read person. I'd very much like to thank them for the music box and this book. It brings back happy memories of Paris." Meg said as if to herself. She knew Fraser was listening intently, though trying to keep up an innocent facade.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, that will be all." Thatcher stood up straight before walking back around her desk.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser suppressed a smile until he had past Turnbull's desk. The book had been a success.

A dozen people, all holding cats, stood in the bull pen with sour expressions on their faces. Diefenbaker sat under Ray's desk, hoping one of the snotty creatures would get loose from it's owner's arms so he could chase it. He hadn't had a good chase in over a month.

"What in the devil is going on here, Detective?" Lieutenant Welsh's voice boomed when he saw all the felines, a tone he specifically used for Ray and Fraser.

"Uh, Sir, one of these cats ate a roll of microfilm." Detective Vecchio answered sheepishly.

"Microfilm, Vecchio, and what's so important about that?" Welsh stood over Ray's desk, in full intimidation mode.

"It has a list of horses' names on it, Sir." Ray answered, sitting up straight and adjusting his tie. Welsh rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And what crime have these horses committed?" Welsh dug for the source of the problem.

"It's a list of horses that have been identified as potential race winners by Sid Claus, the operator of an illegal gambling establishment." Fraser answered succinctly.

"Oh, and how did this microfilm, no, I don't want to know. What I do want is my bull pen, cleaned up, before the end of your shift, do you understand me, Vecchio?" Welsh leaned over, eye to eye with Ray.

"Understood, Sir." Ray nodded.

"What stake does Canada have in this case, Constable?" Welsh turned to Fraser. As usual, the Mountie stood at parade rest.

"None, that I am aware of, Lieutenant." He answered with a blank look.

"Do I want to know what you're doing on this case?"

"Most likely not, Sir." Fraser pulled on his earlobe.

"Thought so." Welsh went on about his way, shaking his head.

Ray and Ben worked their way through the cat fanciers one at a time. By the tenth cat, Dief had grown bored. None of the kitties felt like being chased.

"Is this what you were looking for, Detective?" A tall, raw boned woman asked, handing Ray a slip of microfilm, her yellow, long haired cat in her lap.

"Halleluiah!" Ray exclaimed with a loud clap.

"Thank you kindly, Miss?" Fraser gave her a polite smile.

"Kat Burke." The brunette introduced herself in a soft voice, looking directly at the handsome Canadian.

"Miss Burke, would you care to fill out this form, just in case there should be any questions." Ray pulled out a form and a clip board.

"If you wouldn't mind taking my precious Perkins." She lifted the yellow cat off her lap and waited for one of them to take him.

"Ray, would you mind, Dief might be offended if he smelled cat all over me." Fraser asked. Ray looked up at him incredulously.

"No way, you take it, I don't want cat hair on my new, Armani slacks." He pushed the cat away.

"Fine, Ray, but you know how whiny Dief can be when he's offended." Fraser took the heavy cat into his arms. Perkins looked up at him with mellow, gold eyes and swished his tail. Two seconds later the cat started purring. Fraser noted the pale, curling fur on the cat's stomach. It was a beautiful cat.

"Dief whines about everything, what's new." Ray shrugged.

"Perkins seems to have taken to you, he's usually more reserved with strangers." Kat Burke observed.

"It's a Canadian thing." Ray quipped, watching the woman watch Fraser. Some days he felt invisible.

"They say that a man who's good with cats makes a good husband." The young lady looked down at the clip board, her voice purring. Fraser's eyes widened and Ray saw him swallow hard.

Ten minutes later Kat Burke and precious Perkins were on their way out of the bull pen, much to Fraser's relief.

"Another piece to the puzzle." Ray pulled a lint roller out of his desk and began rolling the sticky cylinder over his clothes.

"Yes, another good day's work." Fraser sat down in the chair facing Ray.

"So, how's the cheering up going?" Ray asked, trying to pull one perforated sheet of cat hair covered paper off the lint roller.

"So far it's going well, Ray. The book of Renaissance paintings were well received." Fraser thought back to the Inspector's reaction.

"What? You really sent a book of naked people to someone, man alive, Benny, what were you thinking?" Ray shook his head.

"It wasn't a book of naked people, Ray, it was a book detailing the most famous Renaissance paintings still in existence. It was much appreciated." Fraser defended his choice.

"Next time, let me help you pick out a gift. It's for a chick, right?" Ray leaned on the desk between them, his face illuminated by the yellow desk lamp.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

Chicagoans moved about their business, self possessed and driven. Fraser watched them as they went about their business as he stood sentry duty outside the consulate. Standing very still, he saw a wide variety of things; fights, loves, laughs and sadnesses. About ten o'clock he watched Inspector Thatcher walk out onto the sidewalk, a thoughtful expression on her face. She adjusted her pearls mindlessly. A young couple walked hand-in-hand past the consulate. The young man scooped his girlfriend up in his arms and began tickling her. The sound of surprised laughter caught the Inspector's attention. She looked over at the couple and sighed as she shook her head. Her dark eyes followed the happy couple down the sidewalk for a moment, until they disappeared in foot traffic. She seemed to have a heavy heart as she walked to the consulate's compact car they used for errands.

It wasn't cheering up or a secret admirer she needed, it was someone to lean on, someone to make her feel special. Fraser tucked that away for later.

"Now you're getting the picture, Benton. That inspector of yours needs a man to keep her company. Presents are good, but there's nothing like being wrapped in someone's arms." Robert Fraser said, a lively sparkle in his ice blue eyes. The older Mountie began to whistle a big band ear tune when Benton didn't respond.

Ben couldn't say anything on sentry duty and his father knew it for a fact. That's why the old man had chosen that moment to appear. All the younger Fraser could do was give him an imperceptible glare and continue his duty.

"Hey, Fraser, what's up?" Ray greeted his friend when the Mountie slid into the Riv after work.

"Good evening, Ray." Fraser's Stetson didn't move.

"Ready for some Chinese?" They'd made plans to have dinner.

"Yes, I am, but first, would you mind stopping by the theater downtown?"

Ray raised a skeptical brow, curious.

"Planning a hot date, Benny?" The wise cracking detective asked, fishing for information.

"I wouldn't call it a 'hot date', Ray, but yes, I am planning an outing." Ben admitted. Lying wasn't his strong suit, and he had no reason to keep anything from his best friend.

"Another secret admirer gift for the Inspector?" Ray asked, turning left away from the consulate.

"Yes, but not from a secret admirer, from myself this time." Ben admitted, a little nervously.

"You and the Ice Queen on a date!" Ray laughed out loud. It was a wonder that he didn't have hives because of that woman.

"Ray, it's not a date, it's simply an evening out at the theater." Fraser stressed.

"Okay, okay." The detective threw up a hand. "What are you taking her to anyway?" He shifted the subject.

"_Macbeth_." The Mountie answered. It was a classic but he hoped she hadn't seen the play before.

"Mac What?" Ray asked, turning briefly to look at his friend. Fraser went into 'Professor' mode and gave an in depth explanation of the play.

"Okay, Fraser, I'll wait for it on video." Ray finally cut him off during the third act. They pulled into a spot along the street. Fraser and Dief exited the car. A few minutes later he returned with two tickets.

"No, I am not buying you a ticket to the play. I've told you before, you'd get nothing out of it." Ben shook his head, exasperated. The wolf turned his head, ignoring his human. He sat in the back seat, pouting.

"You'll just have to stay at the apartment while I'm away, I'll rent your favorite Lassie tape." The wolf laid his head on Fraser's shoulder.

"You pay and pay, and pay." Fraser whispered.

Ray shook his head, silently laughing at the pair.

After Chinese and a game of baseball on television, Ben went back to the consulate. Dief groaned and groused to begin with, until he caught sent of a Labradoodle headed the same way. From there on, the wolf was hard to keep track of among the foot traffic. That was just as well with Ben, he had things on his mind.

"Should I or shouldn't I give her the tickets as myself?" The Mountie felt torn.

"There's no time like the present, son, sign your name on the card this time." Robert Fraser appeared out of the ether beside his only son.

"It isn't that simple, Dad. She's my superior officer, it would be inappropriate." Benton fell back on the old argument he'd told himself since the train, before actually.

"You've broken with regulations before. Could it be that you're afraid of getting hurt again?" Robert Fraser asked, half expecting his son to react in anger.

"That is a definite possibility." Ben stopped in his tracks and stared up at the dark sky overhead. He'd never admitted that, even to himself.

"You've never worn your heart on your sleeve. If anyone knows how difficult it is to open the heart to the possibility of love, I do." Robert Fraser stared up at the starless sky as well. After his wife's death, he'd never loved again. He'd barely been able to look at his son, Benton reminded him of Caroline too much.

"How do you do it, Dad?" Ben asked, standing up straight again.

"You've already taken the first step, son, you realize the problem." With that, the older Mountie disappeared.

"Ah, the problem." Benton repeated ruefully, toying with his eye tooth.

Diefenbaker whined, trotting back to his human, urging him to come along already.

"The female in question is already long gone." Dief tilted his head to one side.

"The Labradoodle." Ben clarified, only to receive an eye roll. The white wolf trotted off toward the consulate, stopping every few feet to find the elusive scent.

"You never give up, do you?" Ben lengthened his pace to catch up to his furry friend. It was too late in the day for the mysteries of relationships.

Meg walked in to her office on Thursday morning at her usual time, briefcase in hand. She sighed when she saw the mountain of paperwork lying on her desk. It never seemed to end. Every day she whittled it down, every morning it reappeared.

The morning light lazily drifted into the window, making it easier to see. The office smelled faintly of lemon Pledge; pleasant but not welcoming.

"Ah, Inspector, may I have a moment?" Constable Fraser poked his head through her open door. He noted the gray business suit she wore with a burgundy, ribbed sweater of light material. It flattered her figure well.

_"Please, no more paperwork."_ Meg mentally whined, pulling on her professional mask.

"Yes, come in, Constable Fraser." Meg laid her brief case on her desk and took off her trench coat. The wind outside had a bite to it.

Ben took a deep breath, summoning the courage to give her the envelope he held.

"This was left for you, Sir." He laid the plain, white envelope on her desk and stood absolutely still opposite her.

Meg lifted a curious brow. She reached into the top drawer of her desk and withdrew the letter opener. With one, swift motion, she slit the seal.

"These are tickets to _Macbeth_, for Friday night." She pulled them out and examined them, squinting at the small print detailing the seats.

"Box seats, they must have cost a small fortune." Eyes wide, Meg looked up at her subordinate officer who had an innocent expression on his handsome face.

_"I would have bought them at twice the price."_ Ben thought to himself.

"There are two of them." Meg stood up and rounded her desk.

"Is there a note, Sir?" Constable Fraser asked nonchalantly, hands behind his back.

"Faint heart never won fair lady. William Camden' ; and 'The heart has eyes that the brain knows nothing about. Dr. Charles Henry Parkhurst.' " The two quotes confused the Inspector. She read them once to herself and again aloud.

"Couldn't yo, couldn't he chose?" Meg handed Fraser the unsigned sheet of printer paper.

"I suppose not." Fraser read the familiar words. They portrayed a side of what he felt; his heart loved her though his brain told him it could never be and he had finally decided that cowardice would get him nowhere.

"Why did my admirer send me both tickets, surely he means to meet me there?" Meg wondered aloud. She didn't understand any of this. Perhaps her admirer wasn't Fraser after all?

"Perhaps this person's aim is simply to make you happy, with or with out them." Fraser suggested.

"Yes, maybe." Meg almost whispered. "I should find a dress." Her mind switched gears.

"Are you planning on taking an escort, Sir?" Fraser asked, still standing rooted to the spot in front of the Inspector's desk.

"Oh yes, the second ticket." Meg peered down at them, they were excellent seats.

_"Could he be hinting that I ask him?"_ She thought. _"Why not, it'll be a good place to get to the bottom of this." _

"Constable Fraser, do you know where you could find a tuxedo on short notice?" Meg asked, her dark eyes searching his face.

Ben blinked, he hadn't thought she'd ask him. He'd hoped, but expected to be disappointed.

"Yes, I believe so." He answered after a moment.

"Good, I'll expect you to pick me up here at the consulate at six tomorrow evening, it's black tie, so dress accordingly.

"Yes, Sir, tomorrow at six o'clock." Ben had to suppress a smile.

The Concert

Meg wore a midnight blue, velvet dress that grazed her knee. Scattered in all the right places were star bursts. Fraser found himself speechless as he walked up the front steps. There she stood, the woman he'd been dreaming of for months. Ben had never dreamed she could look so elegant, so beautiful.

"My coat, Fraser." Her gruff tone brought the Mountie back to earth.

"Yes, ah, yes." He took her long, wool coat off the coat rack near the front door and held it open for her. She slid easily into it's folds. Gently, Ben straightened the collar, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Meg reached up and laid her small, soft hand on his rough fingers.

"You look simply stunning." He watched her wine colored lips begin to smile.

"Thank you, Benton." Meg's voice sounded low, throaty. It hit him in the gut and bloomed like fireworks, sizzling out after reaching for the sky.

"I hope you don't mind if I use your given name, we're off duty." Meg toyed with the strap of her clutch.

"No, I don't mind at all. May I call you Margaret this evening?" He felt emboldened. She was intoxicating.

"Yes, please, I'd like that." Meg loved the sound of her name on the tip of his tongue. No one had ever said it quite the way he just had.

"Allow me." Ben offered his arm to escort her to the waiting limousine. Meg took it gratefully. Together they walked out into the breezy, Chicago evening.

Meg and Ben took their seats, quiet descending in the cavernous limo. Meg admired her date. The Mountie wore a civilian tuxedo, tailored to perfection. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket well, black, shirt studs and the lapels drawing the eye to his narrow waist and long legs. He cut a dashing figure.

"That's a very well tailored tux." Meg complimented, wishing she had come out and said what she thought.

"Thank you kindly." A pleased smile flitted across Ben's face. Meg stifled a sigh, flexing her jaw muscles.

"Benton, I think you look very handsome this evening." She stated calmly.

"Thank you, Margaret." He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, meeting her gaze. It was a break through between them.

"You're welcome." She smiled. Butterflies the size of dinner plates batted around in her stomach.

The limo eased to a stop behind a line of other, expensive vehicles. Benton moved closer to the door, ready to help Margaret out. A valet opened the door. Once they had gotten out, Ben offered her his arm again. With a smile, she accepted. Arm-in-arm, they entered the theater.

Couples clustered together, all dressed in dark tuxes and glittering gowns. Ben took Meg's coat and checked it for her. He found her standing in the center of the lobby studying the poster for the play.

"Have you seen _Macbeth_ performed before?" Ben asked, standing beside her. He wanted to stand beside her forever.

Meg looked up at him. Her brown eyes glittered.

"Yes, once in college, the theater group put on a performance. I loved it." She toyed with her purse's catch.

"I've only read the Scottish play." Ben admitted.

"Oh, you haven't been to the theater before?" Meg wondered what other firsts he had left.

"Only on rare occasions, not nearly enough to suit me." Ben would go every night if it meant being this close to Meg.

"I'm glad we could go tonight, together." Meg spoke softly. She was thrilled to be out with him. "I have my secret admirer to thank for these tickets, too bad they haven't reveal themselves, I'd like to thank them in person."

"I'm certain they'd like to reveal themselves very much, should circumstances allow." Ben's neutral mask slid into place.

"What circumstances would prevent a friendship?" Meg could play that game too.

"Ah, the ushers are allowing patrons inside." Ben offered her his arm.

Disappointed, Meg took his arm and followed Ben to their seat. Dim lights lit the stairs along the seats. A heavy, red curtain hid the stage and the performers. All around, patrons whispered, a hum filling the cavernous area.

"I wanted to thank you for escorting me, I know it was short notice to make arrangements for a tuxedo and someone to watch your wolf." Meg started again, hoping to get back to what she'd wanted to talk about in the first place.

"It's my pleasure, Margaret." Ben turned to look at her in the dim light, her pale face reminded him of the full moon. Friendship, was that all she wanted? Ben hoped not.

Before Meg could say anything else the curtains slid apart to reveal the sets on stage. The theater began to quieten down. Moments later both Mounties were absorbed in the four hundred year old play. Absently, Meg laid her hand on the arm of the seat. He looked down at her hand, wondering what her reaction would be if he took it; if he laced his fingers with hers. Slowly, Ben slipped his left hand beneath her fingers. The feeling of his hand on hers made Meg turn. Their eyes met. Despite the lack of light, he saw her dark eyes and the surprised smile blossoming across her face. For the rest of the play they held hands, Ben's thumb sweeping down the length of each finger.

Most of the audience began to leave after the second curtain call. Fraser didn't want to leave just yet. He didn't want to break contact with Margaret.

"Would you like to get coffee after we leave the thearter?" Meg asked, leaning in to be heard.

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Ben nodded, still holding her hand as they stood. Audience members slowly exited the brick building, cars lining up to take them back to reality.

"Where would you like to go?" Fraser asked as they waited for the limo to arrive.

"Something is open nearby, why don't you send the limo home and we'll walk. We can catch a cab back to the consulate." Meg suggested. She wanted a minute to clear her head.

"As you wish." Fraser nodded. A few minutes later they were on their way down the street, hand-in-hand. At the end of the block a small restaurant still had a few customers inside.

"This will do." Meg pointed with her free hand. She wanted somewhere quiet to talk to Ben.

Meg and Ben sat down at a table for two in the back of the nondescript, mom and pop shop. They each held a pint sized mug of flavored coffee and a plastic saucer with an iced cinnamon bun. Meg glanced at Ben, trying to decide the best way to bring up the secret admirer gifts.

"Did you enjoy the play?" Ben asked, picking a neutral topic.

"Yes, very much. I thought it was interesting that they chose a Post-Apocalyptic theme. Too bad my admirer didn't come with me." She decided to play it coy, at first.

"Yes, too bad." Ben agreed. If he knew her, and he thought he did, she was leading up to something.

"Damn it! Fraser, I know you're the one who sent the secret admirer presents." Meg finally blurted out, tired of playing games. Her lack of patience amazed her as well as Ben.

"How?" Ben stared at her, thunderstruck.

"The quote, the one with the book. It was so close to what I said atop the train." Meg swallowed. She hadn't meant to say anything about that incident.

"I hadn't thought," Ben remembered standing on top of the train, the wind racing across his face, threatening to sweep the both of them away.

"You've been very sweet, Fraser. I love the music box and the book. These tickets were too much, they must have cost an arm and a leg." Meg had gotten into a big way of talking, laying her hand over Fraser's in the process. She didn't realize how tightly she held on until he looked from her to their hands.

_"Oh dear."_ She thought to herself, not wanting to move a muscle.

Slowly, Ben laid his free hand over hers, a smile twinkling in his light eyes.

"I wanted to make you smile." He spoke softly. A genuine, happy smile brightened Meg's face. She couldn't have stopped it if she'd wanted to.

"How can I repay you, Benton?" Meg asked, her eyes drifting down to his lips. Did he realize how kissable they were, she wondered.

Ben leaned forward, less than inches separating them; less than ever before. Their lips met timidly at first. Meg laid her free hand along Ben's cheek, her fingertips enjoying every grain of his skin. She wanted to remember every aspect of him; his skin, his taste, his scent, his warmth.

When the kiss was over they remained close, forehead to forehead. Both of them had gone out on a limb, taking a chance of having the bough break their hearts.

"May I remember this kiss?" Ben asked, breaking the spell first. He swallowed hard, looking at their joined hands.

"Yes, please, I know I will. I'm not going to screw it up this time. We have a second chance, I'm taking it." Meg lifted his chin so that they were eye to eye.

"I'll take a chance if you will." Determination shone in her dark eyes. Ben knew that look. This would work or she'd die trying.

"Yes, I will." He laid his hand over hers and moved to press a soft kiss in her palm like a promise.

"Good, then we're agreed." Meg smiled.

"We are indeed." Ben nodded. There were many questions to be asked, and problems solved. If anyone could, it was two, misplaced Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers making their way in Chicago.

"That a boy, son. I taught you to know when to step out on faith." Robert Fraser stood across the small restaurant. His hands were clasped behind him, his red serge ready for inspection. A satisfied and yet wistful smile pulled at his weathered features. Chuckling to himself, the elder Fraser turned and walked out of the coffee shop and disappeared into the aether.

_**FIN**___

Eps Mentioned; AtQH, Victoria's Secret Pt 1&2

_Five Thousand Quotations for all Occasions._ Henry, Lewis C. 1945. Doubleday. Pg. 16.


End file.
